Semi-weekly south Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1883-1889, 1887-09-30
ROGER LAROQUE.
Adapted and Translated from tho French
of Jules Mary.
BY OLIVE HARPER.

Almost out of patience with her, he at last
mid, brusquely: Keep your secret We
will speak no more Of marriage, but | may
ny that you have bitterly disappointed me-"
and he left her with her eyes full Of tears and
outstretched hands which he affected not to
sea
The lives of all in the two families contin-
ued the same for a few days without new
Incident. Father and daughter avoided each
other as much as it was possible, and when
they were together there was no allusion
made to the demand Of Mime. de Noirville,
though their thoughts ran often upon the
subject.
Nine. de Noirville had finally told Ray
mond of the step she had taken, and at first
be WINS inclined to reproach her for her UNI
fortunate errand, undertaken without lis
knowledge. Tho answers of Suzanne to her
fathers questions aroused in him the demon
of Jealousy, and at last he could bear no
more Il must know, must know, he cried
and rushed of through the woods and into
the park, in the blind hope Of finding her who
filed his thoughts. Nowhere in the park
could he find Suzanne, and half himself he
approached the house, feeling that alone and
single handed he could storm a fortress for
the sake Of seeing her. Drawn by invisible
attraction, he went to the large green house
where Suzanne was walking listlessly among
tho plants. He reached her side and held
out his hands in silence. She saw that his
face was drawn and haggard with suffering,
and her whole heart cried out for him, and
she gave him her hand.
"Suzannel Snzanne / have had horrible
thoughts. l could bear them no longer. What
Is this obstacle between usi Ihnvo right 10
know. Your silence leaves me in the black
shadow Of doubt; and forgive me, Suzanne,
think such dreadful things-such things as
you cannot imagine. They are worse TO bear
than the truth would be, no matter what it
Is. / pray you, Suzanne, on my knees, tell
me what it is that stands between us,
and will bear it bravely ii it must be borne;
but, OH tell me. Save my mind from such
ngonizing torture as your silence imposes
upon mo with its unworthy doubts"
Raymond" said Suzanne at last, wiping
away with her own handkerchief the beads
Of sweat that stood out on his forehead as he
knelt before her-"Raymond, yop suffer
much, and pity you with all my hart. l
will tell you. You have the right to ask me
TO lay baro my secret, though it Is not in
reality mine, but anothers."
"Then hush, Suzanne. Forgive me. no
longer wish to know
at Is too late" said she. ain spite Of your
cruel doubts which dishonor me, l pardon
you; but you must hear my fathers secret.
But first you must swear secrecy the most
absolute
IL promise you, Suzanne, on my honor"
Suzanne closed her eyes as she leaned
against the wall.
raymond said she, II cannot DO your
wife, because the name bear Is not mine,
nor that of my father, for am the daughter
Of q man in hiding from justice; because he |
committed a great crime, not one OF those |
crimes which vengeance explains and eUtenu-
ates, but an odious, frightful crime, which |
dishonors whole family forever. My father |
killed n man for money!"
Raymond could not speak. She continued: |
"You know of this crime, Raymond,
though you were young then, and your
father, the friend Of my father, died in his
defense.n
"Roger Laroquel" whispered Raymond.
SAlas, yes"
"You are his daughter. You, then, are
that little girl who bore herself SO nobly, SO
bravely.p
"Alas, yes. My father escaped and lived
nll these years in America. He thinks do
not remember, and he wished to return TO
France at the risk Of being taken"
"What is his objectln
"That he cannot tell me- as he thinks have
forgotten. As IL / could ever forget"
"But my father said that Roger Laroque
was Innocent He knew him well, and friends
like him do not mistake / believe my father
was right, and that your father was unjustly
condemned. There was n mysterv that uas
never cleared up. Suzanne, do you know
thatp
"Alasi Raymond, you are good to wish to
defend my father, but for me there exists no
mystery. The judges were right in their
questioning / knew ell My mother and
myself saw oil. My father was the assassin"